


Lovers in the Backseat

by WarriorBeeoftheSea



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, I don't have a car fetish Baz does, M/M, Sexual Fantasy, Snogging, car kink, making out in a car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 20:17:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20588468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarriorBeeoftheSea/pseuds/WarriorBeeoftheSea
Summary: The Mage, right bastard that he is, has an unfairly beautiful car. It’s almost as if the universe wants to taunt me with all of the Mage’s beautiful things.Like his heir.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Neck_mole made some beautiful art for this fic. Check it out and scream at it with me.
> 
> https://neck-mole.tumblr.com/post/187629637325

_ “Apparently, he’s been visiting—raiding—all the Old Families’ homes for the last two months. Just rolls up in his Range Rover (1981, Warwick green—lovely) and drinks their tea while his merry Men go through their libraries with finding spells.” _

**Baz**

The Mage, right bastard that he is, has an _ unfairly _ beautiful car. It’s almost as if the universe wants to taunt me with all of the Mage’s beautiful things.

_ Like his heir. _

I frown as I try to clear the thought from my head, but it only burrows in deeper. And now I’m thinking about what I’d like to do to the Mage’s beautiful heir in the backseat of that beautiful car.

It’s a 1981 Range Rover, perfect condition. I assume he uses magic to keep it that way. Why else even bother with magic, really? (I don’t really mean that.)

I’m stood at the window of my room (_our _room), watching the car come down the drive of the school. I feel a twist in my gut, but I try to ignore it. I can’t see him, but I know Snow has to be in the car.

I turn from the window after watching the car disappear behind the White Chapel. I know where it’s heading.

It’s not long before I’m creeping up to the backdoor of the Mage’s garage next to the outer wall. I’ve every right to be here, just like any other student, but I’d still rather not be seen.

I lean against the door and listen for voices. The Mage’s merry _ fucking _ Men tend to be out and about here at all hours of the day and night, but I’ve observed some regular quiet periods. I hope I’m right about this one.

I wait silently a long moment and slip inside.

I don’t have a specific agenda here. I like to occasionally sneak into places the Mage wouldn’t want me to be, just to spite him. The rebellion gives me a small thrill, and it keeps Fiona at bay. 

Sitting in the back of his car is a first, though. The thought makes me squirm, a hot electric feeling curling around my spine and pooling in my belly. This is more than just rebellion. 

_ Because that car features in your perverse fantasies, _ I remind myself. Shame and arousal twist in my gut. I can't help the thoughts that flit across my mind. Snow pressing me roughly against the exterior. My legs wrapped around him in the backseat. Our breath fogging the windows. Kneeling between his knees. 

I step across the garage and reach for the passenger side door handle. I’m prepared to spell the door open if he’s locked it, but I’d rather not have to bother.

The door clicks open and I run my hand along the green exterior (_gorgeous)_. I imagine Simon's hand pressing hard against mine, pinning it to the car, our fingers intertwined. I close my eyes and revel for a moment before I reach in to fold the front seat forward. 

I’ve put thought into this. Where to sit, I mean. And it’s got to be the backseat. Once my mind settled on it, nothing else seemed right. I climb in, past the folded down seat, and slide in.

I lean my back against the driver’s side of the car and stretch my legs out across the seat, then I slouch down and close my eyes, letting my mind wander.

And it wanders straight to Snow, of _ course_. He was in this car not long ago. I grip the back of the seat and pretend I can feel his warmth in the leather. (I really can’t. He’s been gone too long; his heat has dissipated.)

I can smell him though. Clearly, like he’s still here. I turn my head and let my eyes drift open, looking for the source of the smokey smell.

His jumper. The red knit fabric is crumpled and peeking out from under the seat in front of me. _ Slob_. I reach for the jumper and pull it onto my lap, tangling my fingers in its folds.

I can’t help but lift the jumper to my face and breathe in his scent. _ Bloody fucking hell_, what’s wrong with me? I close my eyes and imagine his body. What I’ve seen of it. (Which isn’t much, but I make do.)

I run my right hand lightly over the top of my thigh, and wish he were here. _ I wish Simon Snow were here touching my thigh and making me stupid with his smell. _

Could I get off in this car? _ Too risky. _ I let the jumper drop to my lap and press my fingers against the leather of the seat back. _ Risky, but I want it so badly. _ I slide my right hand up my thigh and skate it across my belly. _ I can't. _My fingers are shaking. 

“What are you _ doing_?”

My eyes shoot open. _ Fuck. _

**Simon**

Baz is staring at me in wide eyed shock, and I honestly feel the same. A blush is creeping up my neck.

What did I just interrupt? I almost feel like I should apologize. Except–

“What are you doing with my jumper?” I climb in the open car door and try to grab it. He scowls and holds it out of my reach, and I brace myself with a hand just above his knee.

Baz tenses and I draw back. As much as we hate each other, I’ve gotten a sense for when he doesn’t want to be touched. (I won’t ever punch him while he’s shrinking away from me.)

Now I’m crouching awkwardly and balancing with a hand on the seat next to his knee. I jostle his legs with my elbow. “Shove over.”

He glares, but folds his long legs in front of himself. I flop into the seat and he throws the jumper at my face. I growl in annoyance and let it fall between us. I stare out the front of the car; I don’t want to have to look at his stupid face.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

He scoffs in answer. I can feel his eyes boring into me.

“Really Baz. Get out.”

He laughs bitterly and my eyes flit over to him. “Make me.”

My pulse quickens, and I clench my fist. I must be angry. (Sometimes feelings sneak up on me.) I frown and return my gaze to the front of the car.

I watch Baz out of the corner of my eye as he stretches out his legs again. I know he’s probably smirking at me, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of looking.

He stops just short of brushing my trousers with his posh shoes, and crosses one ankle over the other. I glance down at his feet and try to swallow down the feeling in my throat. Is he spoiling for a fight?

**Baz**

I want to slide down and pull Simon on top of me but I think he might take it as an act of aggression.

Regardless, I’m feeling reckless when I flex my foot to brush the side of his leg. He’s staring, and I wish I knew what he was thinking.

He settles a hand on my ankle and I almost stop breathing. His fingers brush just under my trouser cuff, and his thumb sweeps across my ankle bone.

“What are _ you _ doing?” It comes out more breathless than I mean for it to.

He flinches away. “Sorry.” He shifts his gaze back to my face. I frown and swing my feet off the seat. “Sorry…” he repeats. “I–”

I shift closer and quiet him with a hand on his knee. I don’t know what I’m doing.

**Simon**

Baz is so close, and I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe. _ What is happening? _

I don’t think this feeling is anger.

I shift to face him squarely. He draws his hand back a little while I move, but then he settles it back on my knee.

We’re sat facing each other fully now. Touching only at a single point of contact. _ Why are we touching? _

I stare at his hand on my knee, and he draws back self consciously. Now we aren’t touching at all.

I can’t have that.

**Baz**

I worry for a moment that Simon might haul off and hit me. Touching him like that was a risk. I should have known better.

But then he’s pressing fingers against my jaw and crashing his lips into mine.

_ Bloody hell, Simon Snow is kissing me. _

His hands are shaking.

_ Crowley. _ Simon is kissing me, and his hands are shaking with nerves, and I’m kissing him back. 

My eyes flutter closed.

He draws back and huffs a nervous breath against my lips. I’m frozen in place, my eyes still shut.

“Is this OK?” He whispers it against my mouth.

I laugh nervously and reach up to tangle my fingers in his hair. I open my eyes to look at him.

His eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth is hanging open (_mouthbreather_) and he’s leaning into my touch.

“Yeah.” I let out a shallow breath. “You?”

He nods, and I think he’s shaking again. Or maybe that’s me.

I swallow. “It’s just–”

He freezes at my words and draws back to look at me.

Now I’m embarrassed. _ It’s really nothing, _ I want to say. But it’s not.

“_Your cross,_” I whisper. Realization spreads across his face and I almost wince. Instead I squeeze my eyes shut. “Please take it off and kiss me again.”

I’m shocked when he does. I watch as he grabs the cross with one hand and yanks the chain until it snaps. He lets it fall to the floor, and looks at me.

“C’mere.” I pull him to me again.

**Simon**

My tongue is in Baz’s mouth, and I feel like I might be sick. Not in a bad way. I mean, more like my insides feel effervescent and shaken up. (Oh _ Merlin, _ please don’t let me be sick on him.)

I’ve never felt this way before.

I snake my left arm around his neck and pull us closer, closer, _ closer _ together. My fingers card through his hair and I feel a low hum vibrate in his throat.

I let my right hand slip from his face and settle on his waist, underneath his blazer. But it’s not enough. I sweep my tongue across his again and again and slide my hand around to his back. Up up up until my palm presses between his shoulder blades and my forearm rests against the span of his back.

_ Oh, Baz. _

It's still not enough. 

**Baz**

Everything is Simon. He’s kissing me so fiercely now, and grabbing at my lapels and pushing my blazer off my shoulders. I’m letting him, my hands pressed loosely to his waist, but then he's pushing me away to wrestle me out of the sleeves. His mouth is still on mine, relentless. There's nothing but his hot, wet mouth and his warm hands shoving at my clothes. 

He pushes my blazer away, letting it crumple (_it doesn't matter_), and I grasp at him again as he winds his arms back around me. I don’t know what I’m doing, but he does. I’m almost embarrassed, but then his mouth moves against mine again and I can’t think. I’m having trouble breathing.

“Snow,” I mumble into his mouth.

He pulls away quickly. “Yeah?” He’s breathing hard, like I am. Before I can answer he’s moving to kiss me again.

“Slow down, you numpty. I’ve got to breathe.”

His cheeks color and he loosens his grip on me. “S-sorry. I got carried away.” He starts squirming away from me.

I roll my eyes. “I didn’t say _ stop, _ you nightmare.” I hook my hand under his right knee and tug it hard towards me. Simon's eyes widen with realization and then he’s clambering onto my lap and looping his arms loosely over my shoulders.

He’s above me now, so I plant my mouth wetly on his throat. He groans and shivers and I press against him with my tongue.

I tighten my arms around him and tug at the back of his shirt. I know I’m mussing the fabric and the thought sends a wave of heat through me. _ Simon Snow, debauched by my hands. _

**Simon**

I’m tipping Baz’s face towards me and kissing him languidly when it hits me.

_ I’m snogging Baz Pitch. _

He sucks my lower lip into his mouth, teasing at it with his tongue. My mouth is tipped open so I can’t help the sound I make in response.

_ I never want to stop snogging him. _

He’s pulling at my shirt-tails, yanking them out of my trousers, so I scrabble at his tie, clumsily undoing the knot. I whine when he caresses the exposed flesh of my back with his long, cold fingers. Embarrassed, I slot my mouth more fully against his to muffle the sounds bubbling out of me. I twist my hand in his tie and yank hard, making him gasp in my mouth. 

Then he’s sliding a hand down, over the fabric of my trousers, and palming my arse.

Surprised, I jolt back from his mouth.

**Baz**

_ Shit. _ I jerk my hands back. “Sorry! I shouldn’t have–”

Simon grabs my right hand and presses it to his thigh before resting his forehead against mine and huffing out a breath. “_Shh_, just give me a moment.”

Clearly he’s not about to thrash me for getting handsy, so I return my left hand to his back.

Then he grabs my right hand and slides it back onto his arse, before dipping his head to press sloppy kisses to my neck. He works at my tie and pulls it from my collar. 

_ Crowley, _ this is almost too much. I moan out loud before I can stop myself. He hums contentedly and licks a broad stripe behind my ear, and then he blows a warm breath across the wet skin. I whimper and clench my hands against him.

**Penny**

Nicks and Slick, Simon is taking an awfully long time to retrieve his jumper.

I slip in through the back door of the garage. He might have done something daft and need help.

And then I nearly drop my school books.

Simon is, in fact, doing something quite daft.

I take a step back and wordlessly slip back out the door. Well. I suppose we’ll study together _ another time. _

I’m starting across the lawn towards the Cloisters, when I see the Mage walking out of the Weeping Tower.

_ Oh no. _

He’s heading for the garage.

**Simon**

I'm working open the buttons on Baz's shirt and coaxing his tongue into my mouth when–

“_Oi, Simon!_”

I startle and almost bite his tongue.

Baz stares up at me with wide eyes.

I turn and peer out the open door of the car. Penny is standing just inside the open back door to the garage, but she is very carefully not looking in our direction.

“The Mage is coming, so if there’s anything you don’t want him to _ see _ you _ doing_…” She lets out an aggravated sigh. “Then _ now _ would be a good time to _ stop it._”

_ Shit. _

I tumble awkwardly off Baz’s lap, and he’s too shocked to catch me, the prat.

**Baz**

I follow Simon out of the garage more closely than I’d prefer with Bunce watching, but I don’t have much choice.

As it is, we just barely make it out the back door before the Mage is striding in the front.

Bunce is eyeing both of us. My open shirtcollar and crumpled blazer. Snow’s untidy shirt. Both of our flushed faces. My _ bloody tie _ looped across Snow’s shoulder. 

And of course our joined hands. (Snow, that idiot, refuses to let go.)

Bunce settles her eyes on Simon’s face and smirks. “Find your jumper then?”

His eyes widen. _ "Shit." _


	2. Epilogue, or: You want me to do WHAT?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon asks for a favor.
> 
> A super secret epilogue to surprise and (hopefully) delight my betas. <3

**Penny**

"I'm sorry, _ what?_" I'm staring at Simon. I know what he's just said, but I'm having trouble believing it. "You want me to do _ what?!_" 

He's looking at me sheepishly. His face flushes and he shrugs. "Keep watch? You know, like you did when--" 

"_That,_" I point a finger at him, "was not on purpose, Simon." 

He grins awkwardly. "Yeah, but. You were a help. I tried thinking of a spell, but I don't know one that would work." 

"Have you considered tying a sock to the doorknob?"

His brow furrows. "Is that a spell? I haven't heard--" 

"No, Simon. It's not a spell. For snake's sake, why does it have to be in the Mage's car _ again _ ? You two are roommates. As in you _ share a room_."

A blush creeps up Simon's face, and I want to crawl under the lunch table we're sat at. He lowers his voice to a near whisper. "Well, yeah. That's true. It's just… The car really gets Baz going, I think."

I cover my ears. "I did not need to know that."

Simon blushes harder and grins. "I think it might get me going too."

"Nope. Sorry, can't help you."

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my usual lovely betas, thehoneyedhufflepuff and F-ing-ruthless-baz, as well as the additional in person beta read from neck_mole and mudblood428.
> 
> Title is from the song of the same name by the Scissor Sisters. Honestly forgot what a jam this was until I was combing through my music library looking for title inspiration.


End file.
